Margaery bit her lower lip when he invited her to the hunt. Her dark eyes flickered to her grandmother before she again focused on Will. She saw his palms, appreciating the near-submissive gesture and the meaning behind it. Margaery smiled and her eyes sparkled. "I would enjoy a hunt with you, Lord Graham.-" Thankfully, her grandmother interjected and relieved Margaery of the awkward task of politely refusing his invitation.

"But as it's the King's hunt, only he could invite people to attend," Olenna pointed out. "And as of yet, Joffrey has not seen fit to bless Margaery with an invitation. So she will not be attending."

Margaery's mouth turned in a crooked line - an expression of regret. Clearly she want to go; or to at least share in the experience. Her father had never deemed it appropriate for women to attend hunts. Margaery had been brought up to be the perfect ladylike flower; something eye-catching for a highborn lord to admire and marry. Ideally, a king.

Olenna sipped her tea and popped a bite of cheese in her mouth. Unsure what to say next, Margaery sipped her own tea and had another bite of fire-plum.

"...however," Olenna added after a long pause. "If someone else were to hold a smaller hunt, one that would not draw so much attention, perhaps Margaery could accept an invitation to such a hunt as that."

Margaery tilted her head at Olenna, who refused to meet her gaze and simply smiled as she sipped her tea. Ah, loopholes. There were never a deficit of them.

But at the question of Will returning home, Margaery tensed again, and both women shook their heads.

"If you return home now, young lord, you'll only arouse suspicion," Olenna pointed out.

"Indeed. And nothing will stop them from sending emissaries after you in the North in the future," Margaery added.